


baby you're a ghost (why are you missing?)

by Laeana



Series: ℓove is a seduction game, [3]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Angst and Feels, Hurt, Implied/Referenced Self-Harm, Language of Flowers, Loneliness, M/M, Not Actually Unrequited Love, Sadstuck, Unhealthy Relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-09
Updated: 2020-11-09
Packaged: 2021-03-09 02:00:01
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 824
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27476914
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana
Summary: He was just here, watching every freaking single flowers that Pierre left him.
Relationships: Pierre Gasly/Charles Leclerc
Series: ℓove is a seduction game, [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2002225
Comments: 4
Kudos: 10





	baby you're a ghost (why are you missing?)

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [god damnit](https://archiveofourown.org/works/22469176) by [Laeana](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Laeana/pseuds/Laeana). 



> Where Charles understands every messages that Pierre left him.
> 
> (featuring : god damnit by call me karizma)

> " **I fucked up  
>  Of course I did  
> The more I think  
> Now  
> I should quit  
> Forfeit the crown**

> **I'd give this up  
>  To not let you down  
> Again**"

He saw Pierre kissing someone else. And it's really weird that he feels like that. Why does it hurt so much ? 

He always thought that his childhood friend was interested in him and yet he would look elsewhere ?

Was he going to leave him alone like Daniel had ?

Attract people to his bed to fill that void deep inside him. He's broken into a thousand pieces and looking for anything to fix it. He's surely not in love with his best friend, he's surely just looking for a way to fill that hole in his heart.

Why is he not sure of himself ? Why does it keep on hurting ?

He lets himself go a little lower, ruining himself more. After all no one will ever care enough right ? He's still a spoiled rotten child, an asshole probably to play with all these lives. He broke hearts, none of his victims could have suspected that he had left no heart more broken than his own.

But it's like that. He's chosen to live a certain way and is sticking to it. The truth is Charles loves himself less than anyone who hates him.

It's not that bad to have these kinds of thoughts but suddenly Pierre is no longer by his side and he takes it very badly. His mood is controversial. All he can see are the flowers, every flower he has recorded in a notebook in a sort of sick impulse. The only thing he's hanging on to.

— I won't be coming anymore.

Cold, so cold. Is that all he deserves ? Surely, surely. He doesn't even dispute it. It's difficult, his throat is tied.

— Why ?

— I need to stop this. The same way Daniel managed to get out of it, I need it. I ... I hope you can understand. I hope you stop all of this.

The evocation of the Aussie makes him freeze. A sort of bitterness in him. An unacknowledged pain. A certain admission at the bottom of this sentence. Everything around him is rotten. Happiness flees his loved ones. It is frankly his fault.

Maybe this is normal. Maybe he's a misfortune factor, a bad luck factor. He breaks everyone around him. A poison. He's the poison.

His apartment messy once again. 

He throws the remaining frames to the ground, crushes them to pieces with his own hands until all that remains is debris and blood. His trembling hands. His forearms open. And the worst part is that it doesn't even hurt. Everything collapses. His universe is collapsing.

The truth is that Charles is nothing without Pierre. 

His one and only friend. The only one who really loved him too.

The last flowers on the table taunt him and in excess of rage he grabs the pot and throws it against the wall with a crash. He is beside himself, his breathing is erratic. He wipes away his tears angrily.

A blue flower is lying around. Crushed to the ground. He bends down to pick it up gently and spins it between his fingers.

Suddenly it hits him. It hits him so hard. He returns to his room, rushing forward, almost tripping over the fallen chairs in his chaos. He frantically flips through his notebook where he wrote down at random.

-Scabiosa ?

He had to ... he had to have a book somewhere. He mumbles to himself, annoyed when he struggles to find what he wants. Finally.

Abandonment ?

He counts each flower, searching eagerly for each meaning he notes with his fingertips, almost unreadable. 

Statements of feelings, bitterness, pain, sadness. Sorry ? Why sorry ? He doesn't understand most, runs a hand through his hair, distraught.

The last is a ... blue ipomoea. A love declaration.

A cynical laugh escapes him. Laughter that quickly turns into sobs. He rocks, almost collapses to the ground as his vision blurs. He's so blind isn't he? He can't get out of this vicious cycle of destruction because that's the only thing that keeps him alive, makes him feel alive, human, wanted.

And that's also the thing that made him lose the only one who ever knew how to love and take care of him.

He almost chokes on his sobs. Dark humor. The world revolves all around him and he never, o never, was part of it.

Charles picks up the bits of glass, digs deeper into his palms than he ever did. And it still doesn't hurt. He is so haunted by a much deeper loss that he doesn't feel it.

Visceral, abyssal. 

The blood slides and spreads on the floor. Tinting everything a purple red, passion red. Madness. He has always liked this color, it matches him in many ways.

He will fall asleep in this heat and dream of an era that never belonged to him.

**Author's Note:**

> so it's still not happy, but better days are coming I can promise that to you at least!


End file.
